Behind the door, I heard Greta's resentful roar, "You think too highly of yourself! What's there to regret to cut ties with a broke ex-convict like you? If we let you stay here and mooch off us, that's when we'd really regret it!"
Leaving that heartless home, I wandered the streets alone for a long time before finally finding a hotel to stay in. Lying on the bed, I stared at the nine-figure balance in my bank account, lost in thought.
I used to believe I lived in a very happy family. My father patiently comforted and advised me when I faced difficulties at work. My mother would bring my favorite soup to my office when I worked late. My brother would come to pick me up from work when it rained. I felt like the cherished little princess of the family.
I was always puzzled whenever I saw stories online about parents favoring sons over daughters. How could such families exist? How could parents not love their daughters?